


Listen With A Quiet Voice

by Jouissance (restrained_ubiquity)



Series: Listen With a Quiet Voice [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Hopefully AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Pure Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restrained_ubiquity/pseuds/Jouissance
Summary: She can't do this again.





	Listen With A Quiet Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyxierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/gifts).



She can’t do this again.  

 

She’s grown too old to sleep on the floor because half of the bed has gone cold.  She doesn’t have work to pile on until her grief is buried under the pressure of keeping her people alive. She doesn’t have an enemy to direct her rage at, to push and fight and argue and beat and scream until her lungs burn and any thought except his demise is pushed aside.  He’d been that for her when she needed it, loaded her with extra inventory and redundant reports when she needed that. Held her the night she finally broke on that floor next to her cold bed and never said a word about it the next day. He’d always given her what she needed. Even when he was the one that took it away.

 

“So why aren’t you here?  I need you! I need YOU! Why aren’t you here?” her voice was hoarse, jagged and the force of it had her coughing harshly as anything and everything within reach turns to ruin. 

 

Something else hits the wall.  A plate maybe? She’s not sure what the shards used to be as they join the rest of the chaos on the floor around her.  She’s destroyed this place bit by bit. She destroys everything in the end. Her husband’s naive optimism, her daughter’s innocence, Marcus’...Marcus’...Marcus’ humanity, his love, his soul.  

 

She should never have gone near him.  She should have known after Jake, certainly after Clarke, that she was the poison, the cancer that should have been cut out.  But, no. He took her in, let her spread, let her fester inside of him until his love for her was the only thing left to live for.  Why was she surprised that he died for her? The horrific answer, of course, was that she wasn’t.

 

His selflessness was the only selfish thing about him.  He gave his life easily for a chance to save hers. 

 

Life.

 

What a concept.

 

She was technically alive.  Her heart beat, air filled her lungs, blood pumped through her veins, but Abby Griffin had died in the dirt, fallen alongside the man she loved.  She’d never gotten up, never been dragged away while clawing at the blood-covered ground to get back to his side. “He’s gone,” they had yelled to her, then soothed, apologized, cajoled, until finally, finally leaving her alone.

 

She can’t do this again.  Shouldn’t have too. One widowhood per lifetime is more than enough.  One genocide, one apocalypse. It was too much. Everything was just too much.  She was adrift and her anchor had been severed. She sat in the wreckage of her life, wanting nothing more than to sink down with him, to find that dark, quiet, peaceful place she hoped he had settled in.  She could do it. It wouldn't take much. No pills, no gun, just a piece of that shattered vase, a little pressure on that vein. She’d never destroy anyone again.

 

“I need you,” she whispered with closed eyes and a steady hand.


End file.
